


Oath

by Danzo



Series: The Otherverse [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Entities, Gen, Incomplete Story, On Hiatus, Other, Otherworldly shit, Sabbath - Freeform, cult stuff, did i forget to mention there's a cult?, fuckin uhhh devilman reference, god complexes: everywhere, mentions of abuse, multidimensions, multiple povs from multiple people, oh worm lich stuff, otherworldly shenanigans, placed under mature just in case, soon-to-be angst, soul bonding i guess, soul-fusion, this entire concept has bothered me for a long ass while so t a k e it, this might not end well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-05-10 05:19:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14730708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danzo/pseuds/Danzo
Summary: A schoolgirl hellbent on not only ruling her school but also her entire world is then fused with a demon with different thoughts, brought upon by a cult summoner. What could possibly go wrong?Oh yeah, everything.





	1. A Daily Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soul fusing: not entirely a get-go to supreme power and shtick.

“Just write it.”

“Write the symbol? Now?”

“Don't bullshit me, prep. I _am_ here for a reason.”

“You are indeed, and I shouldn’t be holding you up any longer now.”

  
  
 Slight doubt scoured through the scapes of her mind as only talking to the blonde made her think of incoherent drivel of anxiety. She truly could have gone back on her word and not make a deal with the literal incarnation of Satan or any demon that was intact to this prep. Yet, foolish bravery kept her at ease-- _too_ much at it. “Priscilla, you’re exactly doing what I’m not here for, fuck’s sakes!”

 

“Janet,” Priscilla began with her serene calmness in her voice, “do you want any bystanders to look in here?”

 

“N-no…”

“Very well then. Are you sure that the cameras and motion sensors are off?”

“Yes.”

“ _Good_.”

 

 Of some nature, a wicked, devious smile etched upon her lips as she slipped out a sheet of loose leaf paper and a fountain pen doused in red ink--at least that’s what the brunette hoped. She began drawing the summoning circle and ancient scripture into the circle. It was nothing of importance, the other thought, patience now waning thin from the time glass of patience. Once Priscilla was done, she rose up and stood, beginning to chant in olden language that was distinctive to tongues, yet it wasn’t that. The paper gleamed a bright orange, magenta hue and flailed about with the wind that rushed into the classroom, windows bursting open even when locks were useless against the strong gust.

 

 After a minute passed by, the blonde spoke in words that were finally coherent and in her native tongue, “ _Oh dear spirits of the damned or blessed, give the scion of aptitude a curse or cure of yours that will give her an advantage. An advantage to break or redeem those of damaging her will. I bring upon thou, spirit.”_

 

 The rush, the thrill, the extravagance of the supernatural simmered down into nothingness as she stopped the ceremonial ritual, seeing the process slowly becoming undone. It was something surreal, something the brunette girl has seen so many times and driven into the groundwater in movies of action and otherworldly properties and whatnot. Yet this was a feeling, an experience she can’t-- _couldn’t-_ -describe in a word or sentence. Her bewildered yet amused expression was simply enough for the blonde summoner. A slight smirk tugged at her lips as seeing Janet attempting to express her shock and concerns as to how she knew that trick.

 

That girl shouldn’t know. A girl with a feeble, fickle mind like her wouldn’t live for long.

 

  “W-well- uh, I’m gonna try _not_ get you angry whenever we cross paths again someday.” She stuttered! Of all things that she could have stated or expressed within that statement, she stuttered! To say that the brunette was an intriguing mortal would be a mere understatement. “Oh please, it takes long to anger me.”

 

It didn’t take long for a dissatisfied, impatient to Janet kick in though.

 

 Her once subtle bickering became higher in concentration and, in notoriety, spite. “For all that time wasted just for ya to summon exactly what? What? I'm askin’ ya this, not the windows!”

 

“I believe the correct term is _who_ , child.”

 

 Her butter knife arguments came to a hold as hearing another source of a voice practically vibrate the entirety of the room with its own, a liquidated unison of a hi-low chorus with a tad bit of rusted gruffiness. She was silenced yet streamed with curiosity as asking who else stumbled upon their ‘friendly’ conversation.

 

“A _friendly_ conversation? It only seems to my eyes that you were yet to smite her.”

 

“M-me? Beat her up? Unlikely—okay seriously who the fuck are you?”

 

 Janet mustered up the courage and turns around, expecting some entity of the cursed or blessed that was implied through the chanting ritual of Priscilla’s yet there were only the desks aligned in a row that were always there, behind her. She could feel her face falling from exasperated frustration, the color of red that once brimmed through her face now paled.

 

 The blonde gave out a light chortle, “The entity is inside you! I personally don't know how or why this happens but...it’s there. In your soul. Ready to corrupt it and twist your internals from the inside out!”

 

“I...I want a fuckin' refund…”

“Not taking any now, sadly.”

 

 The now demon-fused Janet lashed out at the summoner, swiveling a punch into her face and do in a black eye, yet she froze mid action. It was as if her nerves betrayed her, slowly burning as she forced pass the immobilization field. “Please, revert me back! I-I didn't want this!”

 

“But you did. You yearned, ached, and lusted for it as long as you were at this horrendous academy. Yet you go back on your dreams only to realize those consequences come at a heart wrenching cost.”

 

 Her coral blue eyes flashed with behemoth rage towards the smug blonde, of whom only stood in nonchalance at her suffering and forced bonding with the supposed demon inside of her. She was going to break, to die at such an age so fragile and young.

 

“ _You cannot kill her at this point. Accept that, Newman.”_

 

The bell rang.

 

 Priscilla sat back down in her seat, ready for the lesson about Shakespearean literature released in the said era and whatnot. Janet, however, clutched at her chest through her blouse, tightening to the point of feeling some skin within her grasp. This— _this_ —this isn't what she wanted, eventually sacrificing her life for the sake of fulfilling her damned desire.

 

To take over this rotten escapade of a world.


	2. Just Casual Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet gets to bond with the demon in her mind.   
> Realizing how fucked up that sounds out of context worries me.

_I'm terrified._

 

 That's all that repeated throughout her mind for the entire day, being at the edge of the Panic Attack mountain and falling off to even taking a few trips to the sunken, mildew etched bathrooms. Sure, there's a new wing with restrooms in better conditions and is practically kept in pristine conditions than that to the main center of attention, but still.

 

 Another reason as to why to obliterate this damned academy—a capitalistic based inner world workings with the need to make themselves appear better to the outsude world.

 

 The sunken, deprived life was sapped out of her eyes and face as she trailed out of the school, focused on one thing: making contact with the demon and telling it personally to get the fuck out of her temple. Will it be in vain? Probably—but she was determined.

 

“Okay you parasite or whatever you are,” she began as putting earbuds in her ears, “tell me who you are and what ya are. Give me the basics and maybe we'll cooperate from ‘ere.”

 

“ _Etsera_ ,” it began with its ever-so spine chilling voice, _“I'm simply a dream demon—not to be confused with those concubine or pimps.”_

 

“I-”

 

“ _I see you like me already even if I propose as mild danger to your entire well-being, emotionally and spiritually.”_

 

 “Well- uh- duh. Ya just called a group of sex demons sluts and mansluts and I have no say in that besides agreeing slightly.” She began to chew at her hoodie string while walking down the lane to the bus stop, waiting for her particular bus to pick her up and drive her home.

 

“ _You're Janet Newman, a girl bent upon the destruction of the world that never gave you rest or mercy. Your vehement vengeance astounds me even, as a demon of whom served under those like you.”_

 

“Those like me? Did they ever had a chance in succeeding?”

 

“ _As expected, no.”_

 

 The fact that the demon scoured throughout the recesses of her memory, both old and recent,astounded her as well. And within such a small time frame, it was scary to say the least. “ _You being so fearful of your life made it poignant for me to research your past and, well, I'm in pity._ ”

 

“Pity? From you? Ya could’a given me a fucked up daydream for all I cared and this wouldn't be happening’ now.”

 

“ _...You do happen to realize I don't simply focus on miniscule nightmare fuel memories, right?_ ”

 

“What I'm tryin’ to say is fuck you.”

 

 The spirit chuckled, a low rumble vibrating through the escapade of hee mind. The gear engines of the bus approached the stop, Janet now climbing up on the steps to take her seat on the second row. It was rather empty for it being still early evening—strange, as she puts it. The only other passengers on this dreary public bus was a man with a navy blue ski cap and blond locks streaming out of the hat like a waterfall.

 

The other being Priscilla, being a seat behind her.

 

 No, that's simply a hallucination, she would have thought, still looking down at her phone throughout the ride. The blonde herself doesn't ride her bus anyways—or was this another bus she was on? Everything about today in general was a complete weird-fest, ranging from practically fusing with a demon to seeing a summoning ritual go down in her own English class.

 

She blinked once, twice, and the image of Priscilla was gone.

 

 “Nevermind beatin’ up the prep,” Janet muttered to herself, still chewing on the string, “I still want that fuckin’ refund.”

 

“ _Her ways of saying ‘no refunds’ is basically saying this damage you've done unto yourself is a permanent one. A thing beyond_ her _control._ ”

 

 She groaned in impatient dissatisfaction before the bus came to a halt at her stop, a detour sign not too far from her home if you take a left down the street. Rising up and getting off, she takes one more glance back at the seats.

 

“I swear there was a man on this bus,” she spoke with laced suspicion, hopping off the steps.

 

\---

 

“Oh thank _god_ you're home. Can ya help me with my paperwork—”

 

“I'm kinda sick? So I'll just...I'll just lay down.”

 

 The brunette dashed up the tri-steps and into her room, closing the door immediately after. That was practically a bullshitted lie that she slipped through like buttered latex gloves through the opening of a Pringles can; then again, her uncle wouldn't really care about such thing. He never did, anyways, besides with paperwork related to the business he was working for.

 

 Janet sat in her bed, soon flopping face first into the pillow in frustration. Or is it boredom? With frustration and boredom intertwined together, she screamed into the plush cushion for a bit before the not-so benign reminder rang through her mind. “ _You’re not sick. At all. I'm not even making you si—_ ”

 

“Do you not know what a lie is, Etsy?”

 

“ _I prefer to be called not that—_ ”

 

“That performance? Simply a white sprinkle lie! Uncle Lucas doesn't really caaaare if I'm ail or I'm on my last breath. Deep down he might, but it sure ain't showin’!”

 

 All of this was being whispered into her pillow that was spotted with tears across the peach canvas. Her face, scrunched up complex emotions, relaxed into a blank slate of nothing. All of this shit was happening under a timespan of a fucking _day_. ‘Course she knew she was going to breakdown. ‘Course she knew her parents weren't going to be here and still have the uncle around being a toxic workaholic.

 

Of course, she knew she must've been alone.

 

\---

 

“Ms. Pym, you're wanted for your father.”

 

“Huh? I am?”

 

 Feigned innocence was enough to sway half of the servants within the household, yet few were aware enough to know it was a smiling force of menace. Even Priscilla knew it and yet keeps up the facade.

 

 She is then lead down the corridor, up the stairwell that signaled anyone’s steps, and down the hallway she went. The servant didn't follow—he knew not to, anyways.

 

 This one particular room was to the left, as usual, and she enters into an engulfing entirety of darkness, the heightened fight and flight responses spazzing about. This room had more than one person in it, alongside with the atmosphere heaving heavily with silence as a few dozen pair of eyes glance upon the blonde herself. Some in curiosity, some in ambiguity, others just in plain confusion and even disgust.

 

 “Welcome, Priscilla Pym,” a voice that was enough to rumble the room and her ears with his deep baritone, yet was laced with such charismatic cheer that it was breathable enough for her to be comfortable. “I have been expecting you. Sit down and we all will talk.”


	3. Late Night Contemplation Partying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two loners talk about how the hell they're awake at one in the morning.  
> Bonus with cult discourse.

It was the middle of the night.

 

 That's all she could deem as she stared up at the ceiling with the fan swirling, blasting air down onto her. Not much was on her mind besides the demon within the recesses growing bored of not doing anything, scouring through her mind just to find something worth killing time. Thus forth a reason why Janet was up.

 

“When _aren't_ you bored, for fuck sakes? I jus’ wanna sleep.”

 

_"Saw_ _somewhere in here that you're a night owl or insomniac. Must be fun being up through the night.”_

 

“It ain't,” the brunette replied, stretching herself out towards the bookshelf that was a feet or so too close to her bed. She then pulls out a book; not much about the hardback novel besides it being about some girl coming of age realizing she's a god and some shit. The summary itself makes her wonder why in the hell she would buy a paid fanfiction novel from her early years of not-so troubled adolescence.

 

“ _Oh? Then what makes it fun?”_

 

 “Besides sleep, of course,” she began as flipping through the pages, “probably reading. Or just thinking of stuff...certain things, y’know. The usual. At least I have company now than I ever will.”

 

_“Company? I never knew you were...alone.”_

 

“Yeahhh. Having an uncle that rarely pays attention to ya can leave some scars if you're a person so typical of needing human affection and validation—why am I even talking about this?!”

 

 Janet imagined that the demon gave a casual shrug, not like she could blame it. Human confusion, from an emotional standpoint, is a bizarre thing beyond the demon. But this is a _night_ demon, a demon that prowls upon your inner subconscious ideas, fears, and imagination. Yet again, the brunette wonders how she's even comprehending this at fucking one in the morning when that comprehension is necessary for tomorrow.

 

“But yeah...It's not like I'm alone! I could never be, haha!”

 

_“I did forget to tell you that I'm a memory scavenger, huh?”_

 

“...Oh for the love of God, let me sleep.”

 

 Etsera just gave her a mischievous enhanced snort. Somewhere within her—rather, both of them—this only bonded them closer. Janet herself didn't know how to feel about this; however, the demon knew it would vital to either of them in the days to come.

 

Whether or not they liked it.

 

\---

 

“What do you need me here for? I...I didn't do any wrong—”

 

“I should have known you'd say that. Child, you _do_ know why.”

 

 She did and didn't, a combination of fear and confusion painted on her pale complexion face. On one hand, it must've been with the fact that she summoned a demon instead of a spiritual guardian or angel; on the other? She couldn't put her finger on it.

 

More or less, the blonde didn't _want_ to.

 

 “I do not... _father,”_ she breathed out as ignoring the glares from not only the interrogator but also a woman to his left, pursing her lips into a thin line of distaste. “I don't know why I am here in your meeting of all places, and I prefer that knowing in the unknown.”

 

“Understandable enough for a peon to accept. Dearest Priscilla, why would you summon a demon on school gr—”

 

“It was beyond my control! I was forced into doing so!”

 

“ _Forced_? You very well could have summoned a soulsucker and finished them off, child.”

 

 The bickering drowned itself into a drivel of quarrel between the man and Priscilla. She was shaking, gripping onto the ledge of the laminated mahogany table with her knuckles becoming white. The rest of courtsmen continued their silence, watching as the argument continued on into a fray of discord.

 

 Soon enough, the woman beside the blond male shushed them. Her violet eyes stared down at Priscilla with vexatious disgust before making implying, “She is simply an amateur, sweetheart. An amateur child that's just trying her best at this cult.”

 

“Minerva—”

 

“If you want an opinion, she shouldn't be involved with your works, your _legacy_.”

 

 She felt betrayed in a way—this was her choice by heart to be a summoner. Maybe the mother was right about that, regardless of what perspective she looked at it. She just couldn't be involved in the cult this early in her life, even if it's by her own notions of being closer to father just once more.

 

“Minerva’s right, Vince. Let the gal have some freedom to herself in the real world! She's still younger than us!”

 

 The blond simply sighed in defeat at the other’s interpretation on this. Even as his child, it's a necessity to be in touch with the world now than later. “All of you aren't wrong. My fault, Priscilla. You may leave for tonight.”

 

And so she did, walking out in nonchalance before bursting into sprint once the doors closed.

 

“Noel,” he hissed in irritation, “you weren't granted permission to speak.”

 

“Oh I know! I jus’ decided to say something before Minerva’s evident hatred caught on to her.”

 

“ _My_ hatred? How juvenile of you to say such a thing.”

 

“Do mothers look at their young like a mangy street rat needing food? No! So, I'm right, you're wrong. Case closed!”

 

 The woman groaned as pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. She would very well ask why did they even sway a millennial of all places to their cult, yet again the persuasion of one person to sway an entire generation kept her a tad bit at ease longer. “Very well, Noel, you read right through me.”

 

“I guess that's also why you recruited me? To see through other's emotions and intents?”

 

“...When the hell are you wrong?”

 

“Never.”

 

 Vincent glanced at the door once more, with the source dimmed light cracking through the catch underneath the wood. He knew soon enough that she would know that it's not her father and attempt some sort of rebellion against his will and his legacy.

 

He was so far into the plan, so in deep of no return for an apology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know not many people aren't gonna see this (or might and say "what the fuck, deppy"), but heyy this story is on wattpad because why not???????  
> also: there's nothing for me to say—for now.


	4. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Etsera, now sentient and in the flash! Also some Uncle Lucas and niece bonding time over their growing paranoia at three in the morning.

Three days have come and gone; three days of little to no sleep and only the comfort of disconcerting silence keeping her at bay. Is this how it felt being possessed? Being paranoid to the very core of your bones, of which were grated on by ghosting teeth? She simply wanted sleep—just two hours will do.

 

 The brunette made her way into the kitchen, slogging up to the fridge to find something to eat on for sleep. There were a few fruit cups, a takeout tray with a half eaten chicken club sandwich inside, a few hundred condiments that were probably a year over their expiration date, and a half empty jug of milk.

 

“Decisions, decisions. You really wanna eat a fulfilling midnight snack but do you want to try regurgitating it all in the wake of morning?”

 

 Janet only froze in place—a sentient body near her that proposed the same voice and intimidating tone of that to the demon residing in her soul, yet she could only deny such thing. Priscilla stated that the demon was _inside_ of her, regardless of how out of context that could possibly sound. She turns around, blue eyes bloodshot from exhaustion and widened in fear.

 

The demon in the flash waved with a grin, “Hello, _child_.”

 

“W-wha—Are you real? Or are you just some hallucination that you—er, Etsy—put up for my lack of sleep?”

 

“Are you afraid to come to terms with the real deal? Or do you just need glasses?”

 

 Her flowing fiery red hair was stretched out like flames framing her feminine face that beheld a resting grin of either mischief or malice. Her arms were intertwined together with a slanted pose against the granite countertop, that grin growing wider at the bewilderment of her host. “You,” Janet pointed at her, her anger hushed into a whisper, “ _you_ are trying to fuck up my sleep schedule. I don't need you to fuck up my sanity while you're at it!”

 

“It's my duty in doin’ so, sweetheart,” Etsera mimicked the slight Southern accent out of pure humor.

 

“Yo’ duty? My god, I haven't been able to sleep ‘cause of you! The best you can do is not mimic me!”

 

 The redhead woman cocks her head at the entryway of the hallways, indication of her uncle waking up for either food or for the sudden commotion. “Watch your tone, Newman,” she winks with that condescending, snide grin. Really, the brunette could have very well punched the living lights out of her if she wanted to at this moment.

 

 “Jane? Jane! Are you okay?”, the uncle called out with a bat in hand, checking about the living room to see if any intruder broke in. To his relief, there weren't any. “Uhhh- I am? I was just getting some...milk!” _Why? Why the milk, out of all the things you could have chosen!_

 

“Oh...well, I'm just glad they didn't harm you.”

 

“I know.”

 

 She didn't know, she didn't _want_ to know. The fact that her uncle cared about her shattered one layer of her cold, seemingly dead heart.

 

“Jane, can I ask you something?”

 

“Huh? Sure.”

 

“It seems like every day that I ask you for help, you're sick or tired from working out. Is everything alright at school?”

 

That ripped through two layers, plopping right into the gooey part of her sentimental heart.

 

 She could only blurt out a nervous cackle that soon driven itself into a light sobbing fit. The sobbing fit shifted into a crying mess of snob and tears running down her cheeks and stinging at her eyes with such a burning pain. This...this isn't supposed to be happening, not in front of her uncle or, specifically, the demon binded to her mind and soul.

 

After a minute or so passed, she breathed, “I’m fine now...I guess. I...I just miss them.”

 

“Your parents?”

 

“Y-yeah…”

 

“I know,” he gave her a reassuring pat on her back, “I kinda miss ‘em too. They've been gone since the beginning of summer. It's worrying me at this point.”

 

“Worrying you? I thought you were too hung up on your work to worry!”

 

 A stifled laugh escaped from his mouth as taking the joke to heart. “Of course I was! Now go ‘n get your milk, you bound just leave the door open for the air to run.”

 

 He then left the kitchen with an apple in hand and back to his room, closing the door. Janet glanced back at the fridge door, of which was now closed with the demon pouring a glass full of milk into the cup, sliding towards the countertop edge that pointed in the brunette’s general direction. Her once resting grin of devilry was now replaced with a frown of discontent and probably even vexation.

 

“Drink the milk—I got some explaining to do.”

 

“Explaining? I-I just—”

 

“Drink the milk and I'll leave you to sleep for once tomorrow.”

 

 With the sonorous voice of the woman echoing throughout the home, she'd expected her uncle to wake back up again. Yet, with only the shifting in the bed being the only thing she heard, it must've been clear that Etsera was visible to her. So, she reached out for the cup, chugged all of the milk down, and waited for whatever.

 

The sudden rush of lethargy hindered her body, only for Janet to fall back into a state of slumber.

 

“Sleep tight, child. You're gonna need it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally i was gonna involve a cliffhanger but a solid ending that's a vague cliffhanger is enough than something that leaves you blue balled for a day or five.


	5. Sabbath Saturday Partying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Janet and Etsera go down yonder into Niflheim for a party. I mean, what could possibly go wrong with that?
> 
> Hahaa, everything.

Several hours passed, almost of that to an entirety of the day. An entire Saturday _wasted_ on sleeping on the couch, passed out yet regaining all those lost hours of sleep over a cumulative of three days. It was heaven, albeit, but a blessing soon to be a curse of the damned.

 

 The pitter-pattering of rain tapping at the rooftop of the house was bought to the girl’s attention, soon for her to wake up from a slumber that seemed like ages. “Oh sweet fuckin’ christ did I sleep for an entire century?”, she'd ask herself while looking around in the living room, the porch light illuminating both in and outside. There was a numb, achy pain growing into an annoyance right at her shoulder. With each time she moved, it would be of that to a santoku knife grinding against cartilage, flesh and bone, hacking into it with a rolling pin.

 

“Enjoyed your sleep? It's been only seventeen hours since you've been awake.”

 

“God...it's ten already? I-I hafta study! I have this exam tomorrow and like- _god I'm fuckin stupid in forgetting this_.”

 

“It's only Saturday,” replied Etsera as meddling with the fruit basket wraps.

 

“I didn't plan to cram on a Sunday!”

 

“Buuuut! You can cram now and study a bit more tomorrow whenever you have the chance!”

 

 Janet was no logical person at heart—said so by her impulses—but this was debating whether or not she could have an entire day to herself that should've been spent beforehand or use some hours to make up lost time. Sure, she could very well study for that one chemistry exam that counts for a tenth of her grade, but did she really want to? Want to waste freedom, of course.

 

“You try ‘n compromise with a stubborn and difficult person. I'd like to see you _try_.”

 

 “You're headstrong, I'll give you that” the redhead proclaims, “but quite easy to sway with a few tries. What if I told you there's a _party_ going on underneath your feet?” Baffled, she only asked with a quirked eyebrow, “A party underground? Pfft, yeah right— _oh_.”

 

The realization that there's a literal underworld beneath her was both astounding and terrifying.

 

Emphasis on the terrifying part.

 

 “Now, if you wanna go to this particular party that I've been invited to, you could study. Or not...you’re still going regardless.” She bargained with a charming smile and a tone of persuasion, but what did it really cost her for if she agreed with either route? A leg? An arm? Her special, specifically meant for a Certain Thing hand— or even her own sanity. Impulsiveness trudged her through the icy water depths, almost killing her a few times here and there, but for once, those impulses weren't there.

 

 Instead it was her gut telling her no, don't fucking go. She very well could be found dead amidst the ever burning flames down yonder. “I...I shouldn't. I couldn't, even if I tried— ghHH-”

 

 There was a chokehold wrapped around her neck, seemingly tightening with each breath she managed to get out through her slowly being crushed windpipe. That chokehold being the force of two vague hands summoned and wrapped around her neck like a python by Etsera, of whom beheld a wicked grin that didn't signal a single fringe of mercy of sentiment as the living lights were fading from her host’s eyes.

 

 She whispered a little coo of both malice and condense, a coo that echoed through the room with her ghostly voice, “You _are_ coming, whether you like it or not. I very well could choke you to death right here and now if I felt like it, but I'm _merciful_.”

 

 Tears welled in the brunette’s eyes as trying to gain more oxygen from her hindered windpipe, slowly seeing black patches in her vision. Janet manages a nod in response. Once freed from such ghostly clutches, she gulped for air while rubbing at the now bruising neck, coughing. Her bloodshot coral blue eyes glared in grimace at the demon, more than enough spite brewing at this point.

 

“You malignant tumor of a _bitch_ ,” she guts out.

 

“I've been called worse, _love_. Now find something presentable to wear—I heard it's Sabbath themed.”

 

 She could have attacked the demon and risk the chance of being petrified beyond nightmares or even face death in its eyes. Just enough for her to burst out in tears, both frustration and grievance, at how she became a puppet of her own game. A game that she never would have won in the first place.

 

\---

 

They were all asleep.

 

 She climbed onto the windowsill  and out the window, looking back at the bed that had a summoned flesh decoy of her. Surely enough, a maid or servant passing by the room to check on the blonde wouldn't have a second thought, but of any of the cult members doing said thing struck fear into her heart.

 

Such a fear that fueled her anticipation, arousing even.

 

 With a faithful leap, Priscilla slid down onto ehe bricks on the building, summoning a vortex that lead to somewhere down below. Once she neared the pavement impact, the vortex was wide enough to take her whole as she dropped in, containing the squeals of both dread and excitement.

 

The hole swirled into a little loop, disappearing  into thin air with her falling in it.

 

 “Huh, so _she_ gets an invite instead of me. This is fuckin' tyranny, man!” Noel feigned a disappointed groan, leaning back onto a pillar he hid behind. Why was he even out? Just because, he'd claim. “Though...wherever she's going, I might as well tag along for her safety.”

 

 He chants a verse, bringing back all that has happened prior to now into his eyes. The hole that slowly shrunk as it swirled counterclockwise reappeared, himself jumping into the void of unknown. Time was once restored before a funky dimensional shift happened, of what was once a peaceful night now being etched in anticipated foreboding.

 

\---

 

Everything felt numb.

 

 That creak in her neck became worse—if being stung by a bee was bad enough, imagine being stung by an enraged hornet right in the jugular. Blasted music was played through the speakers, bass drops practically shaking through the floor she passed out on. Good _grief_ did overstimulation kick in quickly—way too quick at times.

 

 “Etsy? Etsy!”, the brunette called out amidst the dancing crowd, feeling more embarrassed than need. First she gets dropped off here and then abandoned. No wonder spite grew within her veins towards the demon.

 

 The flashing lights above the ceiling didn't help, with colors of the entire rainbow beaming over her face repeatedly like raw animation on paper. Those flickering lights grew on to be an annoyance to Janet, who trudged to the sidelines and lingered there. Never has she been a wallflower, but this was a reasonable exclusion; she's in _Hell_ for fuck’s sakes!

 

“It's technically not Hell, mortal. That place is a few bus stops down south.”

 

 For a moment, the voice was processed to be Etsera’s but no, it wasn't just that. It had a masculine undertone to it, with a gruff rattle along with it. “Well,” Janet started, “where am I?”

 

“In a clubhouse in Niflheim.”

 

“I'm sorry but what is th-”

 

 The music distorted her question as the demon dude trailed off somewhere- probably to get another shot. This was infuriating; this entire party was downright irritating; call her an erratic but fucking hell did she not agree to being here in her entire lifetime. A twinge at her throat rose, like bile ready to exit out of her mouth already even if it was out of pure, unadulterated anger.

 

She _had_ to get out of there.

 

 The brunette pushed and shoved through the crowd of dancers as she searched for the dream demon in question. Her expectations, of which consisted of the soul intact demon being intoxicated and probably passed out, was right—almost. Etsera cackled while enjoying an entire cup of burgundy wine, chugging it down in the process. Two others, of whom were gathered close to her by outstretched arms, glanced at the only mere mortal in the entire club.

 

“Etsyyyy,” nudged the albino to her left, giving intrigued glances at Janet, “I never knew you had a pet!”

 

“Yeah-ha I do! She does all of my deeds for me!”

 

 “Does she really? She seems like a friend,” the other to her right with a pin-up bun deemed. To say at the least, the one to the right seemed decent enough to be an average soul before realizing the devious smirk at her lips. “A friend of yours to _break_ into pieces.”

 

 The brunette barely manages out a whisper, “Can I go home? I just...want to sleep—”

 

“You gotten _all_ that sleep I gave you and now you want more? How weak can you be?”

 

 The redhead’s flushed cheeks combined with that statement of gaslighting couldn't be taken seriously. Janet stifled in a laugh, only for it to be stopped by a simple, “You are weak. The weakest of humans are ones like you who want to take over a world. You're willing to make your imagination a wet dream come true yet you coward out when given the chance.”

 

“I've never d—”

 

“You _WHINED_ like a baby when I bonded with your soul, for fuck's sakes!”

 

“Etsera, calm down—”

 

“I AM CALM!”

 

 The music screeched to a halt as the dream demon shattered the wine bottle against the black table. Her face was more than a simple shade of red, it was beaming scarlet with rage. With some sort of anger towards her human host that's of that to vindication. Her silvery eyes twitched when a streak of a tear streamed down.

 

“How could you not appreciate life— _your_ own at that? I've seen through that head of yours that the only fulfillment to your life is taking over the world...why?”

 

“...I thought you knew,” Janet replied meekly.

 

“I thought I did. But now I have no clue.”

 

 Etsera summoned a portal beneath her human counterpart, ignoring the many eyes of bystanders who have seen the sole irregular. “Go, sleep,” were the final words said by her before Janet could only see the abyssal darkness.

 

The portal then closes.

 

The music resumes.

 

 She sat back down between her two companions, of whom were bewildered by her speech towards the human. Everyone was at that. Some still gave confused (or suspicious) glances towards the trio and specifically the redhead. The albino ghoul began to waver the silence between the three of them, “Uh, Etsy, that...what was that—”

 

“I have no fucking clue, Erif. I just don't know.”

 

 “Let me guess: she's on her period,” joked the other while taking a swig of her olden whiskey. The two others glared at her oh-so witty humor. “Rei, choke on your whiskey and die.”

 

“Heh, if I only could do so again.”

 

\---

 

Well, at least she made it on time.

 

 The blonde ditched the cloak at the entrance, relishing in the heat blasted onto her skin as entering into the club. She sits on one of the leather stools and asks for a lime margarita. While waiting and zoning out to ignore the blasted incoherency of the music, she noticed the redhead tapping at her glass, glancing about at the floor.

 

Sooner enough, the two of them lock eyes onto each other.

 

 The redhead simply looked away, either in embarrassment or frustration towards the summoner. Not that she can blame the fallen angel for such a thing.

  
It was opted to happen. To be banished from the Holy realm because of her meddling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i could have made this chapter longer but no, im too lazy in doing th at


	6. Illusion Pathos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exams that are worth 10% of your overall grading can be vomit inducing.  
> Oh yeah, nothing much happens. Or am I lying?

_You're going to fail,_ again _._

 

There's always a misconception with the brain in which you study something so meticulously enough from top to bottom, corner to corner, you will forget it in the next hour or day. Why’s that? Why is it that one can't remember half of the periodic table or the quadratic formula? It's simple enough on its own when taught again and again for clarity but attempting to get a grasp of mastery is merely far enough from one’s hands of understanding.

 

She stated that entire sentence throughout her mind like a dreadful, anxiety vomit-inducer mantra, over and over. Yet, the brunette knew it couldn't be true. It shouldn't be truth. If she fails chemistry because of this one singular test yet becomes a biochemist, jokes on the scoring! No number or statistic should hold someone down just because it's low.

 

“Janet Newman,” the chemist teacher hissed with an undertone of venom in her delicate voice.   

_I'mgoingtofailI'mgoingtofail—_

 

“Mrs. Jackson,” she replied with her own version of induced, mutual spite; with a growl lingering in her throat, of the reaction that the chemistry teacher express was golden. It was mutual distaste on a miniscule, personal level. Why and _how_? The child skipped school every now and then and the teacher had a ‘No Bullshit’ policy. Even the writer couldn't make this stuff up out of the blue if she wanted.

 

“You know today is the day, yes?”

 

 “Oh noooo, I forgot my pen! Lemme find it in the bathroom!”, Janet chuckled to herself. It was a stupid joke, albeit, but even the chemist herself got a chuckle out of it. Just one, singular chuckle. “‘Course I do. Whaddya take me as, a dummy?”

 

“Your grades seem to prove so.”

 

She stacked papers and papers in sections on her desk, ready to hand them out once class was in session. Surprisingly enough, the considerably rebellious woman was the first to arrive before Priscilla— _Priscilla_ of all people. The gentle, benevolent girl who honestly would have applied for so many scholarships that goes beyond the finger and toe digits.

 

The same Priscilla that gave Newman a fucking demon that broke her.

 

Janet snuck in a mint bubble gum to freshen up her mouth—it even comforted her a bit. She glanced at the blonde a few seats over, of whom was studying before class began. Did- did the teacher allow it?

 

“Yes, she does allow it, Janet.”

 

“I-I didn't ask you! I was just...wondering—”

 

“If you possessed the power to seek into another’s mind, it's quite intriguing.”

 

“ _Intriguing_? First you say I can't refund my shit demon, now—”

 

“All demons are shitheads. I thought you knew that.”

 

All of this was stated from a Priscilla not glancing at the other, casually scanning her notes through and through. Janet only gritted through her teeth, giving out a growl-sigh that sounded like constipated wailing that earned a stifled chuckle from the blonde.

 

“There's fourteen minutes before the bell,” she finally turns over to the rusty brown brunette with a genuine smile on her pale pink lips, “I'd suggest you study before that mantra becomes real.”

 

What a motherfucker.

 

\---

 

The bell soon rang once the papers were passed out, the exam officially beginning. The first few minutes weren't so bad with just writing down a few simple compound formulas ranging from hydrogen nitrogen to formaldehyde. She kept asking to herself,  _what use am I going to have for this?_ Realizing that she strives to be in the medical field, it was dire.

 

Everything was going normal considering how this was a grade heavy enough to drop some people down an average or boost them up. So normal it seemed odd enough to feel a sharp, almost sickening pain twist at Janet’s stomach. It jabbed a few times when she simply ignored it, yet clutched at it because it was agonizing. Seemingly nobody noticed, she thought to herself.

 

She held up for a few more minutes before becoming nauseated, the movement of bile rushing up to her throat and readying itself to project itself out of her mouth. Sure, it's rude to get up and rush out of the door, but her gesture assured everyone it was an emergency.

 

She dashed towards the restroom and crashed into the one of the vacant stalls, spilling waste into the toilet bowl. She knelt down, hugging it until she became a painting mess, sweating and drained of life. Wholeheartedly so, she could have sworn she didn't eat anything to make her sick like this in the middle of a school day.

 

“Why hello.” Well, at least she's right.

 

The smug undertone in the redhead’s voice grated against her ears as regaining stability in her vitals. Yeah, why the hell would a person, regardless of species, come in and just say ‘hello’ smugly nonchalant after someone vomited? It was, to say, odd.

 

“The hell you sayin’ hello for?”, the brunette asked wearily.

 

“It's been two days since we've talked, hasn't it?”, Etsera kept it simple as that.

 

“ _Two_ days? I thought you were asleep in my mind or some shit.” Janet scooted herself against the wall, flushing the toilet just to not stink up the stall. A few minutes of breathing and she felt better than before, now biting on her nails. The demon decided to explain, “I never knew I could do... _that_. But besides me getting in the way of the exam, I...I do believe I have a lot of explaining to do.”

 

“How much of it? You don't know everything about me.”

 

“That is the definite truth, but I guarantee you Newman, I do.”

 

The slits in those icy blue, silver eyes deemed her statement solid truth, with a steel that couldn't be broken beyond that. If there was one thing that Janet’s gut told her beside being in aching pain for hunger now was that, of course, the demon was right. It's uncanny that she could trust a demon of nightmares more than anyone at this school, let alone in the city of Gardenia.

 

Or, albeit, the entirety of the world.

 

\---

 

The exam would soon be finished, everyone turning in their packets at the door as moving on to the next class. The brunette approached her Government studies with Priscilla being the first as usual and another person in the back, doodling with earbuds in. An averted glance with her sea green eyes was thought of to be with heavy apprehension.

 

With a casual wave, Janet waved back with paranoia scratching at the back of her skull.

 

 She sat down at her seat near a table with a stack of government studies based books on it, closing her eyes and slipping into her own meditation zone.

  
The once scratchy, scruffed voice that spoke with a chorus and a twinge of femininity at its core was now replaced with one of a steely, sonorous voice. _“Now, your parents…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got sick overtime when i actually started writing out this chapter. and when i attempted finishing it, had to do work that caused me to be sore for a day.   
> take it, heathens. next chapter might be solely dialogue.


	7. Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything falls into place slowly after realizing Janet's parent's death that could potential affect her entire plans on taking over the world.   
> Also Priscilla doesn't feel too good.

The mindscape: a dark, dark abyss that has no end or beginning within the escapade of Janet’s.

 

Yet, the mindscape is an infinite landscape of possibilities of being something, the scenery once being black now becoming clear as water. A figure of gold, iridescent white, and blue descends down beyond her with her eyes closed. Those eyes fluttered open, silver slits that glanced down at the brunette in building dismay and utter hesitance.

 

_“I never knew I had to do this.”_

 

“Etsy, it's aight. Ya don't hafta if you don't feel alright—”

 

 _“Child, you don't understand. I_ have _to, for you to understand, for you to recognize that you cannot take over this city or world even if you wanted. Gardenia is a haven and cesspool of entities close to my powers, if not beyond my reckoning. Even with forces combined, you would surely be annihilated by a lurking god.”_

 

Janet’s eyes were widened in surprise as hearing such news. Of course she had to come to terms with having challenges of hard and nightmarish when striving for her dream, but something beyond her and the demon’s powers even combined? Surely it clicked why she felt uncertainty with her entire world domination plan over the course of two years.

 

It was ambitious, yes, but reckless. Reckless in ruining a world that forgave her to the best of its efforts.

 

She bit the inside of her cheek as nodding, agreeing and coming to terms with the...demon? Or was she just an angel in disguise? Why? She liked her red hair before, why was this prevalent? _“This is the past self that I once was before being banished into the realm of Oblivion. Guardians aren't handled easily like the angels or seraphims above.”_

 

“So-”, cue a fixated, confused exasperated frown, “you’re...a guardian? Or you were before?”

 

_“Before you were born. Before this entire world was crafted from the ground up.”_

 

“And...you were kicked outta heaven by Jesus?”

 

_“Your version of God is merely a cover up, more or less. I would prefer to keep things simple just so you won't be left unconscious and be confused in the long run, but yes. Yes I was kicked out of ‘heaven’ by a higher up.”_

 

A twitch at the corner of the woman’s lips twisted into a seldom smile, her eyes deep in thought while thinking something. _“Now mentioning it, I wonder if_ he's _still alive. Or even amongst you.”_

 

Janet’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Who? Who even fuckin’ cares—what about my parents were you gonna say?”

 

The albino ex-guardian’s lips thinned into a light red line of subtle discomfort. She knew the other didn't want to hear what was yet to be said from her mouth yet it had to be said. To be known for the child that couldn't do the thing or things she still anticipated to do in mind. With a steady inhale and a breathy exhale, Etsera exclaimed with a butter knife blunt point, _“Your parents are dead.”_

 

The silence marinated the atmosphere of white.

 

“What-”

 

 _“Your parents died at the hands of the higher ups that banished me into Oblivion, Newman,”_ she restates with a tremble in her demeanor. _“It...was my duty to protect the seers of time, your parents, yet I failed at job. I've failed at protecting them from the one person capable of destroying this world if he wanted—”_

 

“Etsera.”

 

_“Wh—”_

 

“I wanted to see them again.”

 

Tears flooded her coral blue eyes as they flowed down from her cheeks, staining her jacket in droplets. Quite hiccups and sniffles followed, the brunette trembling all over as she fell to her knees as staring into the eyes of the ex-guardian. She wanted to forgive her, but couldn't find the strength to do so. This was a demon that forced her to a party, that called so many things that she knew she was yet declined, and feigned such a bond with.

 

This was a demon that kept her parents death away from her for so long until now.

 

She wanted to scream but just couldn't. Such grief overwhelmed her, drowned her to a point it choked her. “W-why…,” she began, “why now tell me this?”

 

Etsera bit her lip, _“He’s wanting to rule the world just like you. To rework it into his own image with the help of Priscilla.”_

 

“She's not—”

 

 _“You can be a hero or be condemned for it. You_ know _this.”_

 

The choking sobs continued as she kept hiccuping. How and why was the world in her hands of saving? Wasn't she going to be the one to shatter it into her own image? But it didn't matter now; the tables have turned and roles have changed.

 

But even before then, she needed to wake up and have some proper rest—and proper grieving.

 

\---

 

Janet entered into the mobile home, expecting the uncle to be shuttled away in his home office or typing away on his computer, but he was sitting on the couch in disbelief and forlorn.

 

She knew the news.

 

“Janet, I just got back from the office and they said Esmee and Ron died in a car crash on their way back here in Gardenia.” The man was edging a fit of sobbing and blubbering in tears, himself bringing his head into his hands. She knew it felt like a punch in several places, even in the balls, because holy hell she never saw a man cry this hard before but it was something to accept.

 

She sat by her uncle, patting his back and hugging him even, connecting with him. “I...I know, old man. Just let it all out.”

 

“To be honest with you, it feels like they're here. Or even someone watching us in spirit.”

 

Whether it be Etsera watching the sob show and feeling the pang of grievance herself from afar, or Lucas is really right and they're there, he's not wrong.

 

They're there. And always will be.

 

\---

 

She knew why the old grump call her in again.

 

It's been well over a week since the last discussion, a chat between her and the father. An actual bond between someone she thought she once knew. That bond slowly became skewed into a slew of grey, mixed, one-sided feelings that mainly stemmed from Priscilla. She knew that wasn't her father in spirit and mind, it just wasn't.

 

No, her father was dead long ago yet resurfaced like a zombie clinging for life on a decaying cliff.

 

Priscilla opened the weighted wooden doors, practically being blinded by the beaming lights above from the chandeliers that had sparkling gems dangling from them. Albeit, as much as the conference room gave her ghastly vibes when it was dark, she'd prefer it much more than the gleaming, almost eye straining lights. Juuuust slightly.

 

The blond man had his arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed with a steely emerald gaze that made even his colleagues fearful for their lives if they spoke out of turn. He asked, “Noel told me you went down under into Niflheim for.... _research_. What in particular did you find?”

 

Of course, Noel was a snitch yet a liar. He was around the same age as Priscilla and knew her troubles—”I...I thought I could find her.”

 

“Who?”

 

She hesitated for a moment, looking down at the red carpeting before glancing back up, “Find Danadeia of Azule.”

 

The fist that slammed into the granite table shook throughout the soundproof vessel, startling the blonde. For a reason she knew _why_ he was infuriated, but just couldn't put a finger on it. Ever motive he had, every step he took in the destruction of Gardenia and possibly the world, she just couldn't understand what was that purpose. Her father wouldn't do such maddening things even in his evangelical days of convincing people to join Les Grimoire.

 

This wasn't her father.

 

Vincent seethed with a rage incomprehensible in calming down, only to clear his throat and remove his fist from the dent made into the stone. “Excuse me, my scion, but why find such...an icon? There's no such a person as Danadeia—”

 

“Your anger says otherwise, dad!”, she cried out, “Or should I even call you that?”

 

“My precious Priscilla—”

 

“I'm not your precious anything! Who or _what_ are you?”

 

 Her body trembled with fear as backing up against the door, reaching out for the circular handles that were meant to be pulled. The imposter rose out of the leather chair, walking over to the frantic child who pulled on the handles with all her strength but to no avail. “You're not my dad! You're not him!! He's dead, with whatever you did to him!!”

 

Her body brimmed with rage and unknown grievance that spilled out into her words, her voice cracking with each word made from every plea she made as the monster leered forward. Each prowling step was with the intent to strike fear into her heart that was already a rate or so away from becoming a palpitation; a wicked smile creaking at each corners of his lips that was enough for the girl’s flight or punch responses to kick in—she wanted to punch but simply couldn't.

 

The doors were locked; the room vessel was soundproof; whatever happened would be unknown to the servants below and above and even her colleagues.

 

He then stopped. A neutral expression returning to his still abhorrently wicked demeanor.

 

Vincent simply asked with regret and hurt in his voice, “Why do you fear me?”

 

Priscilla was fucking speechless at such a question. Why was she asked that? _How_ , rather, could she answer it without trembling, without a stutter in her voice, without puking. Lightheadedness grasped at her neck and choked the living lights out of her as staring at the fiend that was once her model, her idol that she looked up to. Such fright she never knew would overcome her did so, herself collapsing onto the mahogany flooring.

 

The man chuckled at the dismaying sight. “Poor witch, couldn't take the heat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am. so cruel to this summoner.   
> dont worry i might do an entire chapter dedicated to her soon enough. just Maybe.


	8. The Witch and Seer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An origins chapter, sort of to speak, for the witch of Gardenia and the Seer of Earth.   
> Child stuff ensues because I was in a sap mood.

July—the middle of summer in which it's a sleazy heat haze to the point unbearable enough to be out and about in unless for parties or going to the beach. The breeze was enough to cool off any sunburns from the sun above, of which was hidden behind sparse clouds.

 

 A young girl who wore a sundress with sunflowers imprinted on it with a straw hat trailed behind a man wearing a tropical blue shirt and white shorts, both holding fliers and crosses along their paths. The girl didn't exchange glances or waves back at other people who did so, whether it be in confusion or general generosity; she thought of them as heathens anyways.

 

 They were here for their daily preaching within the city of Gardenia, raising more followers along the way with more gospels the man spoke of. Of course, the daughter had no say in this considering how she _doesn't_ have a right in doing so, but still. Something rather than this would be enjoyable. Building sandcastles or playing in the shorelines seemed fun by the other kids and parents, she thought.

 

Yet envy bit her by the neck as just thinking of it.

 

 She handed out fliers to those who perked interests here and there, smiling with such innocence she had back then. A couple that held hands approached them with a child by their side, clinging onto the mother.

 

“So you're interested in joining our church, ma’am and sir?”, her father asked as handing out the fliers.

 

“Yes we are! We just moved here from Hazelfield about a month ago!”

 

 The mother beamed with enthusiasm as receiving the cross and flyer, it was almost surreal. Of course there's someone who's interested in the church here and there but this was out of the ordinary. Yet again, she should've expected such oddities when the coupled signed up for the seminar.

 

 “Ms. Halland and Mr. Newman, we'll see you and your daughter on Sunday!”, her father smiled with joy.

 

“Indeed, Mr. Pym,” Mr. Newman gave a nod before walking off, enjoying the rest of his day with his wife and child.

 

 As the brunette child glanced back at the post, the blonde herself saw a gleam of cyan undertone in her eyes as it was beamed underneath the sun. Of course, the child wince, asking for a pair of sunglasses along the way, retrieving them from the gracious mother.

 

Priscilla had to ponder...did coral blue even had cyan undertones?

 

\---

 

 Three days and a few hours go by, the sun setting in the far west behind the abundance of evergreen trees. Most of the church faculty and staff left for the night for home or elsewhere while some stayed behind for talking.

 

That was as such for Priscilla’s father and the befriended brunette’s parents, Janet.

 

 The brunette counted aloud while covering her hands with her palms, giggling a bit, “...Eight, nine, ten! Ready or not, here I come!” She ran about behind each bench, looking for the potentially hiding blonde there. Soon enough, the preach stand and then the bathrooms.

 

“If I was you, where would I beeee?”, she thought aloud.

 

\---

 

 Meanwhile, Priscilla was hiding upstairs in a closet off to the left. It wasn't noticeable at first, considering how the knob was removed and the hole for it was covered over in blobs of paint and paper. Yet it was pull-n-open door, left slightly cracked at the bottom where she would pull it open and hide in the darkness of the closet. Truth be told, sometimes she wondered why this particular closet was painted over and left cut off for access.

 

Then the answer became apparent.

 

 Tapping sounds of that to long nails nipping at a wooden surface were heard along the drywalls, creeping down to her ears. At first it could've been just anyone else, especially Janet, but she hasn't heard the trailing of footsteps jumping up on the steps. Fright trembled down her spine as thinking it was a spider but she's handled worse—been bitten by one, too.

 

 A faint whisper of a woman’s spoke in her ears, in a language foreign and ancient to the girl. Fear subsided, now a wave of calm rushing through her. The chanting continued, a flurry of copper light swirling around the blonde as it illuminated the closet, not even noticing the horned woman with bone wings in front of her.

 

“Such an innocent child,” spoke the eldritch beast, glancing at Priscilla. “It'll be such a heartache for being cursed…”

 

“Cursed?”, asked the blonde, her head tilted to the left. Slight worry was in her voice as realizing she would be cursed’.

 

 The winged woman chanted again, dust and rubble from above coming down onto them both. Flurries of scarlet and magenta swirled around the beast, soon flying over to Priscilla under her command; they swirled into her chest, residing there, seeping deep into her flesh, soon bone and her entire heart and soul. With a long heave, her heart skipped a beat after the ritual was completed.

 

The fear then trickled in, the blonde’s sea green eyes swelling with tears, “What did you do…?”

 

“What was needed for Mephisto’s plans.”

 

 She felt herself gag in terror, watching as the bone demon dilapidated into dust in front of her. She wanted to holler for this was scaring her beyond belief but simply couldn't. Soon, her memory recalled that she was in a hide and seek game and she recollected herself, taking inhales and exhales.

 

Why...why her? Why a preacher’s daughter of all people?

 

 Footsteps padded against the carpet that aligned against the wood, excited and jumpy in the process of wanting to find the hidden. Janet gave out a call, “You can't hide forever, Prissy! I know you're in here somewhere—huh?”

 

The brunette child heard sobbing from inside a wall?

 

 There was a crack underneath this impromptu wall as looking at it closely. She knelt down and tugged at it, pulling the door open, revealing a sobbing Priscilla in the process that was covered in dust. She coughed, “You smell like goat ashes! Why hide in there if you're afraid of the dark?”

 

“I...I thought I felt a spider.”

 

 She couldn't know. She _shouldn't_. Even as her best friend, she couldn't bring herself to tell of such thing.

 

If anything, it could kill the Newman girl.

 

 The both of them trailed down the stairs, holding hands as they went to their respective guardians. “You can come over for ice cream if you'd like, Pris,” implied Janet. Her coral blue eyes sparkled with all the innocence that was incomprehensible to begin with to be ripen and stolen in due time. It was just something off about those eyes—what were they even about? What did they even indicate? They were _eyes_ , for chocolate chip shakes!

 

She bit the inside of her cheeks as a response to the hospitality, “I...I don't want ice cream. I don't feel like eating now.”

 

“What's wrong?”

 

“I'm fine. See you tomorrow at school?”

 

“I...guess.”

 

 The blonde exited the building, leave the befriended brunette behind. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes, of which were still red from earlier and the dust. Her sniffles were apparent as rushing to the car that her dad started up, waving goodbye to Janet’s parents.

 

One thing was left in her little eight year old mind: how was she going to tell her dad that she's now a witch?

 

\---

 

“Ronald, I don't think Janet is ready for that—”

 

“Ez, I _know_ she is. I see it in her eyes everyday.”

 

 It was well past midnight and the full moon out, the stars burning so far from them. The woman that was once clad in normal clothing—and skin—was now freelance in indigo, iridescent scaled skin that glimmered under the moonlight with each rapid move she made. Her cyan blue eyes were narrowed in concentration, but mostly concern.

 

They beamed for a moment, her pupils going all cyan. Soon she spoke, “Ron, she could di—”

 

“Esmee, no. _No_ ! I can't allow that to happen! I- I _won't._ ”

 

 Her clawed hands stroked his cheeks and jawline, caressing them as realizing the sorrow was mutual enough for their worry. “We'll protect Janet, no matter what.”

 

“But...who killed her is what I'm worried about,” Ron croaked out, kissing at the seer’s forehead.

 

Esmee took a pause, glancing up at the stars. “Riskial.”

 

“Then we'll tell her! We'll tell her everything she has to know about the Otherverse!”

 

 The draconian shook her head in response. “It's a risk not taking for. As a Seer, I must protect everyone in both realms, even you and Janet.”

 

“Then...when she's sixteen. Yeah! On her birthday!”

 

Esmee gave out a light chuckle, hugging the significant other. “Yes. In due time, my love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i could've posted this later but proofreading previous chapters and watching trollhunters eventually killed that motivation.
> 
> but, y'know, here's the chapter! hope y'all enjoyed it!


	9. A Slumber Party Service of Lusus Naturae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Priscilla seeks refuge with Janet while Janet attempts to come to terms with how the literal hell she's the fated Seer od Earth. 
> 
> Oh, and Vincent isn't himself anymore. Never was, anyways.

_“So, you were once a friend of Priscilla’s?”_

 

“Yeaaahh until she became bitter towards me. Then I just, y'know, bullied her. Because I grew onto her just like that and she dumped me like trash!”

 

_“How....unfortunate. All those years and you've never known she was a witch.”_

 

 It was a casual Saturday afternoon alone in the house, binge watching whatever was available. The redhead soon manifested in a black and purple smaug beside her, the smoke dispersing once she appeared into existence. The brunette glanced at her with those blue eyes of hers, gleaming ever so slightly, “She was that? Damn, I thought she was just a summoner ‘n stuff.”

 

“I'm astounded that you're not surprised. What's become of you?”

 

Janet simply shrugged, “I was a weird kid back then. Told me if you were Satan, I would wanna be your best friend. Now? I would wanna bang you.”

 

 “How...irrational of you—anyways!”, the ex-guardian cleared her throat, “I believe training you for Riskial is of utmost importance.”

 

Her eyebrow was quirked up in curiosity and confusion. “Ricky-all? Who is that, exactly?”

 

 “One of the Servers of light; there being three in total. He came down to see if Mephistopheles was released and soon became possessed by a lich.”

 

 The laptop was shut off as Janet listened to the redhead’s story. _So it is true of there being other things out there besides just this_ , she thought. “A lich? You mean, like, those demonic warlocks?”

 

“Demonic warlocks that can shapeshift and take ahold of anyone, even their minds. Not even the Servers are safe.”

 

“Okay...yikes. What happened then?”

 

 Etsera shrugged as final, “Who knows. But liches corrupt their victims’ souls slowly until they're at the brink of breaking—”

 

 A knock was heard on the door and the mind demon stopped babbling, dispersing into thin air. The knock happened again, only with more force. “Janet, I know you're here! I heard the demon speaking to you!”

 

Wh— _Why Priscilla of all people?!_

 

 The brunette peeked out of the window with the shutter blinds, seeing the blonde clad in black in broad daylight. And in scorching heat at that. Janet unlocked the door as seeing her face red from the temperature. Just- just why black out of all things? Anyone out here could suspect the two planning a robbery in the neighborhood.

 

Though she hoped for the best that they didn't.

 

 Priscilla unscathed the jacket, throwing it on the couch after feeling the rush of cool air from above. “ _God_ this feels better!”

 

“Why are you here?”, Janet scoffed with a sneer, crossed arms while glaring at the blonde.

 

“Huh, I thought you knew.”

 

“I'm as dense as dry oatmeal, Pym. Tell me.”

 

 Priscilla pouted, pointing at the brunette’s head as a hint. She needed Etsera for _what_ exactly? But nonetheless, the demon appeared as if using Janet’s eyes as her own. Thinking about the habitual stuff she does in the middle of the night sent a shiver down her spine. “What do you want, child?”, asked the ex-guardian.

 

“Your protection. My father...my father isn't my father anymore.”

 

 Her chest heaved as saying the sentence, shifting herself away from the door. “He tried to attack me out of the blue and...and I- I didn't know what to do. I wish to stay here.”

 

 Awkward silence was only exchanged between the mind demon and the Seer, of whom chuckled nervously. “Reaaally? Well, uhm, ya sure about that?”

 

“Yes, Seer of Earth, I am. Even if I personally don't agree to such things.”

 

Janet scoffed, “Excuse _you_ , this is my home! And I don't allow trash to stay in 'ere!”

 

“It's technically your _parents’_ , but okay.”

 

 The tension was thinning the rope of calm in the atmosphere; a smug smirk present on the lips of the witch while a growl rumbled in the seer’s throat. All the ex-guardian could do is watch yet intervene into the pending fiasco—after all, her host isn't even trained or even know her basic limitations. A deep breath was exhaled from Janet as she recollected herself from the frustration that built-up in her throat, realizing that the fate of her city, the _world_ , was on her hands.

 

“Fine. I should've...gave ya a better welcome?”

 

“No need, formalities isn't needed for friends.”

 

 A vortex was summoned in the middle of the laminate wood floor, luggage of clothes in two suitcases shot up from the darkness. A few more things as well did, but Janet couldn't possibly mind at this point. Etsera glanced at Priscilla, soon questioning, “How long do you intend to stay?”

 

“Whenever I have the chance to find out what happened to my dad.”

 

 Etsera stiffened. The girl was the key for a disaster event too soon while her father was a pawn. She would be hunted down and ravaged into only measly pieces of flesh and bone overnight by god knows whatever Riskial sent out for her.

 

 The redhead pulled Janet upstairs, practically dragging her. “H-Hey! Etsy! I wanna talk with Pris for a bit!”

 

“Too bad. Didn't you say you had to study for, uhm, what was it...that one Government studies test?”

 

“Oh- yeah. Just keep dragging me.”

 

 Priscilla went through her bookbag and found hee binder, looking through the sections for any confirmation date of the aforementioned test. She mumbled, “We don't have that until next week.”

 

\---

 

“So Noel, any chances in finding her?”

 

 The dirty blond straggled back into the conference room, heaving with a hand on the the wooden doors. He shook his head in response, “No sir. I looked in the corridors, the rooms, her own room, even in that one closest that was painted over— _everywhere!_ ”

 

 The stepmother took a sip from her camomile tea, dark violet eyes narrowed in vexed grimace. “The girl isn't here then,” she noted. “Must be taking refuge somewhere, anywhere in Gardenia or the Secondary Plains.”

 

 Vincent’s eyes twitched, “The Secondary Plains? That's too far! Too far for me to reach and come back in due time!”

 

“In due time for what, exactly?”, Minerva scoffed.

 

 “In due time for this planet to unwind, to crumble into desolate ruins.” He clenched his fist in mid-air, an ill-willed chortle was all he gave as seeing the expression of surprise on his apprentice’s face. “What's the matter, _boy_? Something you'd care to express about?”

 

This- this wasn't him. This wasn't the preacher he admired for so long until now.

 

 This was some sort of entity beyond his recognition yet one he was familiar with. A concoction of unfamiliar and familiarity into one within Vincent Pym. Noel shook his in response, knowing better than to slip up anything that was in his mind of doubt, “N-No sir. Nothing at all. I'll find Priscilla.”

 

“No need,” he states. “Leave her be. I want her to have these last few days of freedom before I pull her in. Wouldn't you agree?”

 

 His words of ilk sent shivers down his spine as the preacher’s eyes gleamed bright with a shine of golden amber to it, veins of black emerging in his sclera that was soon emerged in the darkness. Minerva was nonchalant about this sort of stuff—yet again, a hint of aghast and even fright at her face was present as seeing an entire possession episode going down. What was worse were the words, the voice of a tri-voice chorus speaking at once with his own included.

 

_“Soon, the world will be his to reign over. Balance restored to the realms. Wouldn't that be splendid, my fellow apprentice?”_

 

“YEAH THAT'S REAL GREAT! GOTTA GO HOME NOW, CYA!”

 

 The blond scurried out of the conference room, running down the stairs to the point of almost tripping. His screams were heard throughout the manor as he exited out of there and into his car, starting it up and driving onto the highway.

Anywhere but there— just fucking _anywhere but there_ would be nice.

 

 Vincent could only chuckle, a chuckle that was a restraint of the cackle of mania that would've erupted  throughout the manor. He was a madman, he can admit to that, but a madman in service of his overlord.

 

“Do we really need him?”, piqued the wife from her teacup.

 

“Oh please. The boy knows too much, plus he's petrified. Give him some time to recover!”

 

“I take that as a no.”

 

“Oh how clever you are.”

 

\---

 

After the bruise-inducing stair dragging, Janet props herself up against the doorway, glaring at the ex-guardian. “Okay uh, why am I here? I wanted to talk to Pris.”

 

“Priscilla is the catalyst of disaster, I hope you realize that.”

 

“A catalyst _how?”_ , the fledgling Seer sneers. “It's not like she could summon some apocalyptic beast to ravage through Gardenia by pure will!”

 

 “Not a beast, but a person.” Light yellow, golden dust brewed in Etsera’s hand before she blew it right into the brunette’s eyes. The once cluttered room of clothes, books, discs, and whatnot were swallowed by a landscape of darkness and obscurity. The darkness soon became a smudge in itself, becoming a cavern with glimmering crystals of cyan, purple, and copper jutted out from the sides and top.

 

 It was still dark, albeit, but it was a nightmarish haven of crystal mining. Wispy, mulberry smaug formed in front of them, appearing a man from the portal with a skull in hand, slim and pale fingers admiring the crevices of the inhuman remains.

 

He chuckled, “And to get the feeling of visitors in my abode...such voyeurs they are.”

 

“He can see us?!”, Janet whisper-shouted out of queasy fesr.

 

“No, but he can sense my magic. Yours is just a little electric spark.”

 

“Oh shut up. It's not my fault I have dead parents now because of yo—”

 

 The anonymous maestro approached them, vermillion eyes brimming with mused curiosity. “A _Seer_? Lusua was never subtle in her tricks, was she?”

 

 His hands grazed upon them, specifically at Janet whose hair was brushed against with his hands. “ _Soft_ ,” he whispered. Those eyes narrowed, glaring at her. “I'll find you, Seer.”

 

 The impromptu mirror into the other realm was closed off, bringing the both of them back before a hand was launched into Janet’s throat. Throughout the encounter, she was petrified beyond belief. Paralyzed to the point of being immobile, almost as if staring into the eyes of a gorgon.

 

She croaked out, “Who...who the _fuck_ was he…”

 

“Mephistopheles,” replied Etsera in grimace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *blares "Lusus Naturae" on speakers  
> technically this chapter could've been longer but when am i ever consistent with my stuff  
> update: it is Longer


	10. A Seer's Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AKA: "In which everything is okay until Priscilla's cousin comes in"   
> or   
> "In which Janet sees something absolutely fucky"

_ Of aquamarine and turquoise, _

_ It's of a vague realm that pieces those two together, _

_ Divided by a lesion of wretched ilk if so, _

_ The Green oldens, the rains into droughts, _

_ The skies of pure blue to plum red. _

_ Of a bond sealed by two entities, _

_ One must go to Oblivion of no return. _

 

_ \---  _

 

 The brunette woke up to a start in the middle of the night, legs sprawled out and about in her bed from the vague dream—or was it vision? The voice was of that to a maternal mother cooing to her child with a lullaby, serene and calm. It was in no way within Etsera’s vocal range, of which had a twinge of mischief youth, but still. 

 

 Even with the fans on blast, she broke out in cold sweat while heaving. Whatever it was, vision or not, it now holds significance to her. She inhaled and exhaled, taking a few seconds of breath before going back to sleep. 

 

Though the cyan hue that illuminated her room irritated her. 

 

 It wasn't from her phone, considering how it's in one of the drawers and charging. Janet got up to check on Priscilla before passing the nightstand that had a mirror intact to it. The cerulean light wasn't coming from anywhere but it was coming from  _ her own eyes _ . Her once light blue eyes were saturated in neon blue, along with the sclera. 

 

“What in the hell?!”

 

 She wanted to scream but considering how moonlight beamed through her windows, she couldn't. Priscilla was asleep, Uncle Lucas was probably back home, and all these contributing variables of her anxiety to not scream just kept piling up. She blinked once, twice, yet the beams didn't leave. 

 

It was as if she was possessed by an entity, yet her sanity was still intact.

 

 She slouched back onto her bed, nearing the edge of panic as trying to realize what sweet hell she's gotten herself into. This wasn't supposed to happen—!!

 

_ Rest, my child,  _ spoke the voice. 

 

 A hand ghosts upon her shoulders, a yelp falling from her lips as it did so. It felt cool and slick and scaled within the palms. Janet’s paranoia couldn't let her rest despite what the disembodied voice demanded her to do. Yet again, she resumed with her breathing exercise, counting to ten slowly, wincing her eyes shut. 

 

 Etsera wasn't here; Priscilla wasn't here; her  _ mother  _ wasn't here. Tears pricked at her eyes while she curled up into a ball in her bed, sniffling. 

 

She truly did feel lonely in a world so lonesome. 

 

\--- 

 

_ With thy beck and call, victor is a valorous feat, _

_ A feat like no other but the pits of another, _

_ A fight destined but a fight that was never meant to be. _

_ The Light Server will be reborn anew, _

_ Anew into the terrains of familiarity,  _

_ however with a seasoning of vengeance,  _

_ Yet, this vengeance will be her rise—and fall. _

 

_ \---  _

 

 A deep breath escaped from her lungs as the vision faded to black. Goosebumps were scattered all about on her skin after the dream. Janet stares at herself into the mirror to see the glowing cyan eyes—and thus, they weren't there. 

 

“You just had to let the vision finish,” explained Etsera out of the blue.

 

“W-what—”

 

“You  _ are  _ the fated Seer of the Middle Terrains. Our version of Earth, of course.”

 

 There were at least an over-exaggerated million questions scattered throughout her mind as hearing the voice and Etsera’s vague explanation alone. “That was no vision. That was a message!”, shouted Janet.

 

“Fledgling Seers get messages in forms of that with their first time. Not all of you are special, not even your mother.”

 

“You say it in a harsh way.”

 

“I mean it with utmost sincerity. A Seer’s first time at getting a vision can be of that to yours—simplistic—or devastating enough to leave emotional scars.”

 

 A heavy sigh was all Janet could express. Sure, there was screaming and a very fluently, descriptive yet vulgar way of insults she'd use but it was nighttime. She knew that she was picked by some force in the universe to be the new protector or some shit, but this isn't what she want. And to just think this all started from fusing with an ex-guardian to complete her world domination plans.

 

 A part of her wanted to proceed on with those twisted dreams, an obsession so obsolete in the long run. The other half rationalized and knew that there was a more malicious force out there; a force beyond her recognition of battling; a force wanting her former childhood friend in its plans of destruction.

 

“Etsera, train me,” the fledgling demanded. “Right here, right now.”

 

“T-Train you  _ now _ ? It'll take  _ years  _ for you to even muster up to becoming at least an apprentice of mine!”

 

“You say it like it's a bad thing. Come on, it'll be fun!” 

 

Etsera hesitated for a moment. Yet again, she did train Esmee. She sighed, “Fine, but don't make me regret this.”

 

\--- 

 

 Her hand glowed a magenta hue with sprinkles of orange dancing in the flames as it was lit in her palm. For some reason, these sleepless nights were at her side every now and then—now becoming a frequency that was an annoyance. The fire dissipates into a glow of orange as she set her hand down, sighing.

 

So this is how it feels...being an entity of magic in a world desolate with it.

 

 Well no, it wasn't entirely desolate with it—an example being Janet and her stepmother and such. Even with there being more than one magic user, it didn't feel the same in some way. In some way, it felt as if there was more than just this. 

 

And, of course, Priscilla knew. 

 

 Yet there was so much within her mind that was a bit much for her to comprehend at the hour, sleep pulling her into its sea of slumber. So she embraces it, exhaustion finally coming to a halt before— 

 

“Pris!  _ Priscilla! _ ”

 

Oh no. 

 

 A swirling white vortex that was ripped open in the floor was then stitched up by the consolation of fabric of time. The dirty blonde was peaked in several ways; confusion, fright- hell, even pressed to the edge of mania. Noel heaved, trying to bring his rapid heart rate to a normal level, only to find that wasn't happening. 

 

“Noel, calm down,” Priscilla suggested.

 

 “W-what d-do you think I'm trying to d-do?!”, he stammered through his sentence. Soon, he clutched at his chest, wheezing a bit. The apprentice croaked out a sob, mumbling something between his heaving. 

 

“Noel, I swear to God—”

 

“Vincent...needs you…”

 

“For  _ what _ ? I'm not going back to that lunatic!”

 

 With a rush through his lungs, he passed out. Janet rushed downstairs with a wooden bat in hand just in case, baffled to see the apprentice in Priscilla’s arms. “Pris? Pris what the hell happened?”

 

 “I think this was my dad’s message for running away,” she spoke in a whisper of lament. He only passed out, right? There's no clear indicator that a close friend of Priscilla would be offed like that, right? Her paranoia turned into grievance and soon, into unimaginable anger that flared up the room with a spark of scarlet and dark fuschia swirling around her in an embassy of discordant harmony.

 

 A shrill fell from her lips, shattering a nearby weakened glass and possibly even a few others. The flurry of flares rushed inside of Noel, starting from his chest and soon downward. The smaug of blackberry and navy was discharged through him in a tar-like essence, soon sumberging underneath into the flooring. Priscilla was left to sob into her friend’s chest—wait, was even to be considered a friend? The energy that once flowed within him sent out a burst flow throughout the house and, eventually, the entire neighborhood, in waves of golden dust. 

 

 She felt so weak, so detached from Earth as if she was ascending into the Second Terrains. Priscilla fainted, falling over onto her side while holding Noel’s head close to her legs. 

 

 Meanwhile, the brunette discarded her bat from her hand while being stunned in awe from the sight. Sure, it must've surpassed the shocker that was the summoning ritual for her former guardian, but there was a certain type of melancholy within the magic. It was—no,  _ felt— _ mutual enough to her, feeling the metaphorical strings being plucked from their place.

 

It was...so odd.

 

 Tears pricked at her eyes like stinging fire needles, all whilst she didn't have anything to cry for or to. Janet glanced at Priscilla, of whom had a tear streak down her cheek while she was unconscious.

 

 Janet sat beside the blonde, unsure of how to cope with the uncertain yet familiar feeling of sorrow that lingered. Noel woke up, gasping for air, only to glance at the Seer with a look of utter confusion and even distaste. He sneered, “Well Jane, didn't expect to see you here.”

 

“What? I  _ live  _ here! I could ask you the same thing!”

 

He only gave a vague shrug. “I dunno. I teleported into here and everything became black. I think I was having a panic attack? Still, dunno—”

 

“Lusua,” a bitter undertone echoed from above, “No being other than her could pull off a  _ paralytic mania  _ spell like that.”

 

 Etsera then appeared with the expression of apprehension on her face while approaching Noel, examining him top to bottom. “I should've known dark magic would be present,” she uttered as placing her index finger against his jugular, feeling the pulse beat. It was slow, but sure and steady.

 

“Lusua  _ who _ ?”, Janet chimed into the redhead’s innermost speculations.

 

“A Grand Lich- no,  _ the  _ Grand Lich of Xasia. For some reason she's intact with...Riskial.”

 

“Oh? Oh what the  _ fuck _ ? You couldn't possibly mean—”

 

 The redhead nodded in response of the sheer terror within Janet’s thoughts. “I never thought of myself to come to the conclusions of...such things,” she retorted. Janet was in a mindfuck-fest of being disgruntled as she further comprehend the situation.”So you mean Vincent is-”

 

“Yes. I don't know for how long, but yes.”

 

 Noel intersected into the conversation with his own grievances and concerns as well, “Vincent being controlled by the Grand Lich? How didn't I see it?”

 

“Illusion spell, of course. Must've worn off after you've escaped.”

 

 The brunette shook her head and waved her hand in the air. “Okay so? We tell Pris that her dad is corrupted times squared.” 

 

 Yet again, Etsera rebuked against the suggestion, “That's simply adding too much pressure onto the girl. Let her rest—for now, at least.”

 

 There was no rebuttal against the statement; after all, she had to protect her only other childhood friend from the messy disaster that was encroaching  the corner. Noel rose up, summoning a portal in the middle of the space between the couch and chair. “Looks like Chronus ain't gonna be too happy about it,” he chuckled while stepping into the portal. “Hell, nobody is!”

 

“But someone will,” insisted the ex-guardian with furrowed eyebrow.

 

“It couldn't possibly be hi-”

 

 “Dude,” Janet spat out, “that motherfucker is after me! And probably another Server of Light! Who knows if it is even him, but if it is, then…” She choked. She choked on the words that were yet to follow so fluently from her mouth until that moment that she was hushed against her own will. A pulse went through the back of neck and she trembled, finding some raw will and courage to speak the words that were delayed.

 

“Then I'll be the one doing that sacrifice instead of Pris. Or anyone, for that matter.”

 

 The apprentice scoffed, a light chuckle following, “Looks like Pris had her reasons to worry ‘bout you. Take care, Newman.”

 

And like that, he and the portal were gone with the stitching of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ehhhhhhhhh yeah   
> here you go   
> also the poems??? if someone deciphers em, congrats! you get a digital cookie


	11. Can you really call this a story update? I didn't even get invested in the characters and story.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what it says on the tin, baby.

so uh.

knew this entire story would sour and not age well overtime like olives. 

what my bitchass trying to say is this: i might abandon this project due to growing disinterest in it + me writing another story that's already posted.

whats even better is that- lmao- this kinda contradicts w/ the othee story and form some plotholes. that's lovely!

so uh, kiddos and seers, this oath is broken. 

_**at least for now.** _

 

_**\---** _

 

 _ **tldr:**_ i have problems with staying on one project/story and commitment issues to a long-term thing. i truly dont deserve being a novelist lmao 

could just be my self deprecation but god damn me if i ever decide to put in effort in something like this ever again.

who knows i just might. time can only tell :^)


End file.
